Courtney's Redemption
by Radio Gaga
Summary: While Courtney sits alone in her hospital room, slowly dying, she decides to write to the only person she thinks will forgive her mistakes: Harold. Harold and a few of the other Total Drama Underdogs come to speak with her before she passes on.
1. The Letter

Courtney was alone. She sat alone in a plain white hospital room without one single card or flower. Instead, she stared at the blank white walls and lifted a piece of paper up, comparing the colors. A single tear fell down her face while she compared three pale colors; the wall (linen), the paper (white with an undertone of grey) and her hand (sienna with an overtone of grey-blue). She stifled a sob, simply out of habit. Hiding emotions. Isn't that what had gotten her into this mess? Wasn't that why the one person who'd loved her as much as she'd loved him had left?

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head. Her hand shook and Courtney stressed her arm muscles to the point that the needle in said arm started bleeding anew.

Courtney felt the dull burning in her arm and focused on it. She thought about her life; what had she really done of value? Sure, she'd become a powerful and wealthy lawyer, but what did that mean to the rest of the world?

"It means I stole from victims and prevented criminals from being punished." She finally broke, letting a whole dam of self-pity burst forth.

* * *

Pat is a hardworking woman. She takes care of the hospital patients as if they are her own children, which, in a way they are. So, obviously, when she'd heard one of her children sobbing in pain, she dropped the files she'd been working on and rushed into the room.

"Courtney," she looked from the young woman's face to the bandages on her arm, which were stained a deep scarlet.

"P-pat," she sniffed. "Let me die! Please, just kill me! I deserve it..." Courtney's eyes open suddenly and stare into a space that isn't in that sterile white room. "I'm a criminal, and I haven't been punished."

Pat held a hand to her mouth and stepped back, eyes wide. "Miss Garcia..." Pat felt around in the back pocket of her white uniform slacks until she found a small cube with a button. If she pressed this button, twenty other nurses would be in the area to help in seconds, but...

"Courtney, what are you talking about, honey?" Pat let go of the device and sat at the end of Courtney's bed. "You can talk to me, always."

"Pat," Courtney looked up and held her hand in front of her face once more. She chuckled hollowly, sounding and looking more like the shell she was than ever before. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Pat opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't say anything. "It's alright, I already know. I can feel my body shutting down, bit by bit."

"Do you know why I'm here, Pat?"

"Because you hurt yourself, and-"

"No," Courtney traced the vertical scars that ran up and down her wrist veins. "I'm here because I pushed everyone who cared away, and prevented others from caring. I valued money and power over real people. I tossed away everything that really matters and..." Courtney clenched her fist until her knuckles turned ghostly white and her vein stood out bright blue against the white scars. "Pat, I want to make things right between my Karma and I before I go. Will you please get me someone's address and a pen? Some more paper would be useful also."

Pat nodded and prepared to change Courtney's bandages.

* * *

Dear Harold:

I know you will read this letter, unlike many of the others I plan to write to, simply because you are the kind of person who rarely, if ever, believes a person is all bad. You think I'm going to one day regret how I tortured you and will apologize. You are right, of course, and here is that apology in the form of a dying woman's ramblings.

Harold, I am dying of AIDs. I know; it sounds like some sort of cheesey movie, what with _me_, Courtney the big-shot lawyer, being in a hospital and dying of something so simple, but it seems fitting somehow...

I hated you so much when we were on Total Drama Island. I was so proud, so vain then, but now I have no pride or vanity left in me. I am a shell of a human more than I ever was before, and it scares me. I'm glad of this, however, because it has led me to realize things I never would have seen before. I realize that I never hated you; I just felt inferior to you. I strove all my life to be the best at everything, but then you came along and someone other than myself was intelligent. What completely broke my self control during our stay on The Island is that you were so... Nerdy. I couldn't believe that some D&D-playing, allergy-ridden dork like you was my equal. I couldn't-wouldn't-believe it, and so I denied it by belittling you. Not that this did me any good, seeing as how I put so much time into trying to make you look bad I couldn't do well in any of the challenges. I was so... _useless_. I can't believe that I thought I was really so great that everyone would look past my mistakes and love me. I'm certain the only reason I stayed on that show so long was because of Duncan.

Duncan...

I left him, Harold. He might have broken up with me, but I was the one who left him. I got a job, and poured all my energy into it. Even before that, I was always trying to change him, not for myself, but so that the outside world would think I was better than them. I tried to make him a powerful, successful man that every woman would envy me for. I tried to turn a caring, passionate man into a shell like myself. I left the man I fell in love with for the man I tried to turn Duncan into.

Harold, I wish I could take it all back! I sit here, alone and dying, without even a card from my own parents. My _own parents_ won't send me a fucking 'Get Well' card! Do you know how hard reality hits when your parents won't even acknowledge you, their only child?

You might ask: 'Why is she telling me this? Why did she even bother sending me a letter full of her own self-pity', and the answer is simply this:

I have no one else.

Duncan won't talk to me, no matter how sincere I am, and I have no chance of speaking to anyone else. I just... I just want someone to listen. I know I have no right to force my problems on you, but I don't know what else to do.

Please, Harold, accept my apology, so I may die in peace.

Sincerely,

Carmen 'Courtney' Garcia

* * *

Harold took off his glasses and pinched his nose; he wished he didn't care. He wished he could just read Courtney's letter and pitch it in the trash, but he couldn't. He wanted to help her die peacefully. AIDS still has no cure, even with today's modern medicine, but death can be prolonged.

"Molly," he laid down on the bed and whispered in his wife's ear. "I'm leaving now, but I'll be back soon. Don't worry; there's no other lady, but there is someone who needs my help. I'm going to see them with a few friends." He sat up again and eased out of bed. "I hope you understand." He left a quick note, packed enough luggage for a month-long trip, and crept to his car. He pulled out his cellular phone and dialed one of his 'few friends'.

"Ezekiel? I need your help with something; can you come with me for a month or so? Great, I'll pick you up in the van. See you soon."

* * *

**Thank you, all, for reading! I just want to clarify some thing here before I forget.**

**First off: Yes, Harold married someone other than LeShawna. I found it very unlikely that many (if any) of the original characters would marry each other, so I thought up a name and made her Harold's wife. I don't think she'll ever be mentioned again, but I _do_ plan on getting into Harold and LeShawna's relationship (friendship, really) later in the story.**

**Second: I have never known anyone with AIDS, so I'm not really sure of what happens there. I'm kinda guessing, but I _did_ order several books about HIV from my Library, so I'll know soon enough. I'm placing this fiction in the future a bit, so we can assume that Courtney will live for a month or so yet.**

**Third: Please don't swarm me with romance and pairing ideas! Ideas on _other_ things will be welcome, but I don't think I'll include much romance in this at all. Courtney probably won't end back up with Duncan, and I'm not sure I'll bring his current lover into this story at all. I _might_ write another story about his interest in a certain person later as a companion, but I doubt it'll be out anytime soon.**

**Once again, thanks for reading. Please don't hesitate to review harshly; I value harsh reviews over 'OMG WRITE MORE PRETTY WORDS!11!' any day.**


	2. Lust without Love

"No,"

Courtney tossed and turned in her sleep, her hair violently whipping around and lashing at her face. Pat sat near the end of the bed, watching. Pat was the only nurse that would deal with Courtney instead of passing her off to the Shrink. Pat understood Courtney's behavior, oddly enough, even if she'd never experienced it herself. Pat is a people person, and she was one of the only people who could see Courtney needed to release emotions that had been pent up for so long, and she alone understood that Courtney didn't know how to express those emotions.

Courtney, meanwhile, was running.

* * *

_"Duncan," Courtney frowned and ran to catch up with the young man. His green 'hawk' was gone, and all that remained of his piercings were twenty small holes all over his body. He walked purposefully, bravely away from her, and would never turn back. Courtney ran and ran, but Duncan's short-legged walk was somehow still too fast to catch up with. "Duncan!" Tears fell from her face and splattered against the ground, chiming as they broke apart. The teen stopped, startled, and looked around. Duncan had disappeared and glass shards now hung all around her, floating in midair. She could not tell the sky from the walls, nor the walls from the floor; everything was black and shone with rainbows like gasoline._

_"Carmen," a voice called to her. Courtney could see a light shining from behind the tar-like curtain. "Come to me, Carmen." The voice cooed. Courtney rubbed her eyes and tried to recall the last time she'd been called by her real name._

_"Courtney!" Came another voice. This one was harsh, while the other was motherly. "Get the Hell back to work!" This voice seemed to affect the curtain strongly. A small hole, the size of a cigarette burn, formed on the curtain._

_"Fuck yea, you slut!" This voice echoed and caused a large tear right by Courtney's feet to appear. She shuffled away from it, only to step right into another. "You've gotta want it; show me you want it!" The curtain gripped her leg like quicksand and tugged her down. She tried to grip the glass that was still chiming and sticking to what seemed to be the floor, but it only cut her hands as they were pulled under._

_Everything was black, lit only by a few candles. She saw herself and a former employer in his office. It was dark, and it was obvious they were the only ones in the building. She saw Other Courtney raking her nails down her boss' pants, just lightly brushing against the large bulge there. "I want it, Mr. Hill, I want it so bad."_

_He moaned. "Tell me what you want."_

_Other Courtney smirked. "I want a promotion."_

_The real Courtney squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the memory. Someone touched her, pulling her arm and shaking her._

_"No," she yelled._

* * *

"No!"

"Courtney," Pat was shaking Courtney, trying to wake her up. Courtney had been curled in a fetal positing, quivering and clutching her arms to the point of her nails breaking the skin. Courtney Garcia's head snapped up, like a cobra, and she was face-to-face with Nurse Pat.

"My name is Carmen."

* * *

Heather flipped open her phone with a professional, emotionless expression, then grinned when the caller spoke. "Hi, Harold, what's up?" Harold explained and Heather's face fell. "I'm sorry, what do you want me to do? I can't do that! Why should I?"

"Because you know what it's like." Heather didn't speak for a long time. She _did_ know how Courtney was feeling, she knew better than anyone else Courtney would talk to in her last days on Earth.

Heather never answered Harold, but she knew he would be outside the store in a matter of moments. Heather unpinned her name tag, told her boss what was going on, and bought some tampons before walking outside and waiting.

Heather still gets hate mail, still gets glares from random people on the street, but she is content. Heather has a simple life. She works at a Shop 'N' Rob down the street from her house, and she dates frequently. Heather is content because she learned what Courtney is just now realizing many years ago.

* * *

"_You are so _FAKE_!" She screamed, attempting to punch Alejandro. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand before it made contact. He gripped tightly, making her whimper slightly, and glared with anger and hatred._

"_I am only as fake as you! You think you're so saintly? What have you done since you've gotten here? You've controlled Sierra, and you've won challenges, that's it!" He gritted his teeth. "You and I are no different, except I'm a better actor." Heather whined and tried to remember what her self-defense classes had taught her about reversing someone's grip on you. _

_He loosened his grip and backed the Queen Bee against the cold metal wall of the elimination room. "If you were to scream, no one would come to find you. Sierra's gone, and anyone else who might help is gone with her. It's only you, Courtney, and I." He chuckled darkly. "Courtney might even come just to laugh at you."_

_Heather closed her eyes and enjoyed him, like she had so many times before with various boyfriends and girlfriends. She enjoyed every last minute of his lust, because she vowed it would be the last time she would indulge in lust without love. _

_S__he vowed to never again pretend. _

_S__he vowed to choose love and friendship over lust and power._

* * *

Heather smiled as a large blue van pulled up to the curb and the passenger's side door opened. "C'mon, Heather, we've gotta go pick up everyone else.

She slid inside next to her good friend and buckled up. While she guided him toward her home, she thought about how Harold had helped her become who she now was-who she still is.

"Do you remember?" She said, popping her suitcase under her feet, then sitting back into her seat.

"Remember what?"

"How you saved me."

He smiled. "All I did was give you another chance-"

"And another, and another, and another..." She rested her head against the window.

Harold patted her shoulder, quickly returning it to the wheel. "You needed every one."

Heather heard him, but didn't respond; she was thinking, thinking of the Total Drama reunion one year after World Tour.

She'd come in an attempt to apologize to her former competitors, but no one had accepted. No one, that is, except Harold McGrady V. There had been a bit fancy dinner, and every table was occupied by someone who didn't want Heather to sit next to them. Heather had grabbed a plate off one of the tables and sat in the corner, her stylish black dress picking up every speck of dust that floor had to offer. "Sit with us," Harold had offered her a hand, which she hesitantly took, and pulled out the chair next to her like a perfect gentleman. There were four others at his table: LeShawna, Ezekiel, Trent, and _Gwen_.

Heather tried to speak with the Goth Girl during dinner, but to no avail; Gwen ignored her the entire time. Harold and LeShawna talked to Heather, though, and she never forgot that. They'd exchanged her their phone numbers and e-mail addresses, promising to get together soon, after that dinner, and Heather called them both once a week for years.

Heather decided, sitting in the van with Harold, thinking of the second chance they'd given her, that she would make Courtney's last moments the most memorable in her life. She would never like Courtney, but she would never let herself hate someone who resembled the Old Heather so much.

Never.

* * *

**I'm not proud of this chapter, simply because I don't think I portrayed Heather how I wanted to. I also think I might've made this story a bit more 'Mature' than I wanted, and I really don't want to change the rating!**

**I hope I like the next chapter a bit better, and I hope _you_, at least, like this chapter.**


End file.
